


The Flying City

by orphan_account



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Based off a prompt I found on the internet, Beta found!, Canon What Canon, Canon What Canon?, Continuity is fucked, Expect nothing, Gay Robots, M/M, No Beta, Now we're here, Oh Primus, Or everything, Robots, Starscream needs a hug, We Die Like Men, here go again, here we are now, it started with a prompt, its all headcanons tho, oh boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2020-10-29 13:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20797520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: To many, the city of Vos simply does not exist. It is an impossibility that many grounders never get to see. A city reserved solely for Seekers and their flying brethren could have never existed. Seekers were war builds after all, how could they run a city? Vos was simply a myth from ancient texts, dismissed with barely a second thought. However, a few grounders were once allowed to live in the flying cities, considered as honorary Vosians, and these few will never share their secrets.(New Version)





	1. Excerpt from 'Mystery of Vos' Novelia

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are liked and appreciated!

Once upon a time, many stories and myths began with that phrase. A Once Upon A Time with kings and queens, knights and dragons, and happily ever after. This fairy tale is no different in that manner. In the manner of starting with ‘Once upon a time’. Yet this tale is not one of dragons and knights and fighting for princesses. Nor does this one have a happily ever after.

Once upon a time, a city flew in the sky. Well flew doesn’t seem accurate, it didn’t move in anyone direction like one might imagine a flier or a ship would. Nor did it have wings like organic birds. No it more did hover. It floated in place, never moving so it seemed.

  
Once upon a time, seekers lived in a city called Vos. The city that flew home to the now violate race. A safe have so to speak for those who belonged in the sky, those that were born to fly. As the story goes they were kinder then, knowing anything below could not reach them. Seekers above rage and vanity, yet hid when they touched the ground.

  
Once upon a time, seekers were safe. They were safe to be kind and love, to treat each other how they needed to be treated. A way that Grounders could never know or care to know. All that mattered to Seekers then was to be kind to themselves and show that same kindness to others. Trines living in harmony with each other. The seekers free from the problems that which Grounders dealt.

  
Once upon a time, a secret was kept. The secret of Vos existing at all. Grounders to remain blissfully unaware. Only the winged were gifted to know, yet even fliers remained left out. Even then Seekers were selfish, wishing to keep their slice of heaven to themselves. Yet could one call them selfish considering their treatment by Grounders? Could one call them selfish for wanting one place to be safe?

  
Once upon a time, Seekers were categorized. The bias against them were something legendary to behold. No Grounder could imagine them as anything but interface slaves and couriers. Not scientists or medics or anything of the sort. Yet most were inclined to that sort of work. Their processors run fast to fly, calculations of all sorts running through their minds. Much unlike fliers with their downloaded schemes.

  
Once upon a time, Seekers were attacked. ‘For stepping out o time’ as reasons go. The only reason for attacking them despite having done nothing wrong. Seekers retreated, but due to their nature some could not. Seekers fought back, or at least some tried. Others just took it, grimacing in pain. As a war in the background came to a boil, not yet starting yet all seekers could see it was bound to happen eventually.

  
Once upon a time, there was a war. Fliers and Grounders broke out in a fight. Autobots, Decepticons, both Cybertronian yet neither could be more different. Seeker pulled away or the majority did, hiding back in Vos. Yet some could not, swept up in fighting or killed. Neutrals targeted and killed for not choosing a side. For the first time, Vos opened its gates to those who could not fly. Trusted Neutrals able to hide, to stay safe.

  
Once upon a time, the core was poisoned. All seekers felt it, a ripple from cybertron itself. The wells were drying up, Vos would stutter. The seekers readied, evacuated. None stayed behind, at least none that had a mind. None except one, who volunteered to call them back when safe. The prince some would say, or a guard, or a courageous civilian. No one knows, not anymore.

  
Once upon a time, cybertron fell. No seeker remained behind, none but one. The war taken to the stars where the fight would continue. One seeker stayed behind, going mad so to speak. No one would think he was more than he was. Some say he died, others say he’s still alive. Not a spark knows, not a spark is certain, not a spark would remember.

  
...Unless…

  
~ ‘Mystery of Vos’ Novelia by S#@y$*%^!^


	2. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever get the feeling you've forgotten something? Something important?

The Second In Command and Primary Tactician of the Autobot Army was a stern mech. His tactical processors unparalleled and his near expressionless faceplate legendary to those who try to question him. Nothing got to this mech. Not a thing, not a person, nothing except maybe the twins.

Or at least that what it seemed. In reality, Prowl was bothered by a long of things. Jazz, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, paperwork, most the decepticons, horrendous grammar, reading Ironhide’s reports, paperwork, reading Ratchet’s handwriting, a lack of information, paperwork, anyone disturbing him on his -rare- days off, paperwork, Ratchet going off on him about his health, paperwork, mediating meetings between Optimus Prime and Megatron, paperwork, did he mention paperwork?

Everyone hated paperwork. It was a universally accepted fact that excluded no one except maybe Ultra Magnus. Then again, Ultra Magnus lived for rules so perhaps that exclusion was for the better. Even Prowl hated paperwork, more specifically reports from former -and current- frontliners and anything from Ironhide. Both are thousands -millions in Ironhide’s case, years old yet none of them seemed to have a basic grasp on grammar.

Sadly for Prowl, his line of work required paperwork -and a lot of it-. Being Second In Command meant he got a decent amount of things for his eyes only. Being Primary Taction meant he got dozens of datapads of tactical information a day, though he didn’t mind that too much. Not to mention the paperwork he was ‘assigned’ -read ‘took secretly’- from Prime, though to be fair Prowl’s direct superior worked too much to be healthy -funny how Ratchet says the same thing to Prowl-.

Currently said SIC was slowly trudging his way through one extra special report. Namely the twin’s reports, the only ones he couldn’t glance at and automatically be able to tell exactly what information he needed out of them. Instead, Prowl read word by word through sentences without periods, misspelled three letter words, and grammar that must just be so bad to spite him.

Not to mention Prowl had a killer processor ache. They only happened ever so often, Ratchet even mentioned they might be from him never turning his battle computer off, but when they did happen they were horrible. It was like someone was taking a drill to his neural cortex.

Nothing helped them either. Not extra refueling or taking stasis naps or pain chips. The damned reports Prowl had to read at the moment just made it worse. Prowl didn’t want to do paperwork yet whenever he blinked there always seemed to be more of it. All Prowl wanted to do was hurl the offending datapad at the wall as he read ‘teh lsdnspace’. What was that even supposed to read? ‘The landscape’ probably but still.

Seconds away from banging his helm against his desk and throwing a fit like an errant sparkling, Prowl managed to finish the… thing. He couldn’t really call it a report considering it wasn’t even legible. Sideswipe had to be writing so badly just to spite him. Any other option just seemed depressing, such as Sideswipe actually being that bad at writing.

Signing off the report and tossing it, neatly, off to the side, Prowl exvented heavily. While on camera he looked as stoic as ever, anyone who would wander into the room could feel his weariness. Prowl really wanted to wander off to his berthroom and curl up on his berth. His processor was killing him, the twins reports always tested him patience, yet Prowl was barely halfway through his alpha shift.

Thankfully, Prowl had already gone through the worst of the reports that would take most mechs their entire shifts to finish so he could take it easy. That’s when someone decided to ping Prowl’s door.

Immediately, the weary feeling came back with double the force. Yet, Prowl straightened his back, pulled his doorwings formally into a V-shape, and prepared himself for whatever awaited him. Something pulled at him though, dragging his processors towards a faint nagging feeling. It was usually there when Prowl got his processor aches though so he could easily ignore it.

“Come in,” Prowl commanded, his mouth felt sticky and the words came from his vocalizer clipped off. The doors opened with a quiet  _ shhhk _ and a small orangish mech shambled in. His lighter armour and lack of weapons automatically ruled him out as being any sort of warrior so that was a relief. Meanwhile, his nervous disposition and rather loud -but in reality normal sounding- footsteps meant he wasn’t in Spec Ops. No special upgrades at all in fact, not even the sign of him being in the medical division.

With Prowl’s complete memorization of everyone under his command in the tactical division, Prowl came to the conclusion that this mech had to be from the newly founded Intelligence Division. How new, those mechs were usually terrified of him for whatever reason and never dared to step into his office themselves.

The Intelligence Division was nothing more than a skeleton crew of neutrals pit bent on remaking what was lost when the Iacon database was corrupted. Currently, their main objective was combing through what was recovered of the Iacon database, the Autobot database, and the Decepticon database in order to match faceplates to designations.Thankfully, such a job only required Prowl to sign off on requests to access certain portions of the Autobot database and other files. Although considering the sheer volume of data the Intelligence Division dealt with, Prowl was sympathetic to how constantly overworked they were.

“State your designation and purpose here” Prowl droned, sounding almost like a robot with his monotone voice. Upon closer inspection, Prowl noticed the lightly built shy mech was clutching something in his servos. It appeared to be a datapad with a definitive red outline, the red meaning it was either high priority or time sensitive. Which was new, nothing the Intelligence division was working on was ever really considered high priority.

Upon being spoken to, the shy mech’s gaze darted up to look at him -not meeting Prowl’s eyes though- before returning to the floor in what was likely supposed to be a respectful manner. Although, all things considered, Prowl thought the mech looked more like a cornered animal, reserved and afraid for their life.

“Datum sir,” the shy mech, Datum it appeared, spoke softly, “A-as for w-w-why I’m h-h-er.” The glitch evident in Datum’s vocalizer made Prowl wonder how it happened, although he didn’t say anything. “Th-there s-s-seems t-to be a-a-a-an iiiiissue.” Datum’s voice seemed to lift at the end of each sentence, sounding more like a question than a statement each time.

“What sort of issue?” Prowl probed, almost wincing as Datum got more nervous and by proxy causing his vocalizer’s glitch to almost get worse. “Iiiiiit’z a-a-a-about a s-s-certain sa-so-someone” Datum muttered, Prowl could barely hear the mech.

Lowering his doorwings the barest bit to seem more inviting, Prowl probed again “Who would that ‘someone’ be, exactly?” With the question, Datum seemed to tense. “I-it’s s-st-starscream sir...w-w-we c-can’t f-f-f-ind hiiiiiim aaaaat a-a-alll.” Datum shuffled, twitching nervously.

Prowl furrowed his brow. Why wouldn’t they be able to find Starscream? What did they mean by that? Obviously they were talking about in the database but ...”Explain” Prowl demanded. Datum twitched, shuttered, and fell still for the first time since he entered Prowl’s office. The orange mech invented deeply and began to speak.

“During the first few sweeps of the Iacon database for Starscream, my team and I came to the conclusion that Starscream’s records were some of the many that had been lost when the database was first corrupted. Following the appropriate procedures, we gained access to the Decepticon’s database and logs for their SIC’s files. My team focused on finding any reports and medical visits under the SIC’s designation as those would be the easiest to backtrack into a file containing their information on him. However, we were unsuccessful in finding any such files. After further inspection and numerous deep sweeps, my team and I were forced to conclude that Starscream had no such file. We even did a cursory sweep over all other non-classified files in all available databases with Starscream as the keyword. All results of the sweep have been cataloged in this report.” Datum shuttered again, seeming to redirect whatever focus he had keeping his vocalizer steady to the rest of his frame, “Th-that’s it sir.” Datum trailed off.

Prowl studied the red lined datapad before him, considering it for a moment before turning it on. A quick glance through its contents and… that couldn’t be right. “Dismissed,” Prowl spoke with clipped words. Datum took no time immediately scuttering out of the room.

Prowl exvented sharply, it didn’t make any logical sense. Starscream possessed no sort of hacking ability and had no sort of pull with Soundwave to convince the stoic TIC to delete his files. Furthermore, knowing Soundwave the mech had backups of backups of files so there should be at the very least something on Starscream.

Anything would have sufficed. Be it a list of felonies, medical checkups, or even birth records. Yet there was nothing of the sort. How could something so big be missed? Starscream had scant few allies, no pull with mechs with any sort of hacking abilities, and lacked the subtle capabilities needed to hack the Decepticon database himself.

Prowl’s processor throbbed, a sharp sound coming from his vents. Perhaps he should take a break for once. Yes, a break sounded delightful. Prowl could worry about it later, perhaps during the inevitable officer’s meeting over this lack of info. It was bound to happen sooner or later.

Yet that didn’t stop an odd itch from forming in the back of Prowl’s processor. It was barely noticeable all things considered but it still made him wonder. Why did it feel like he was forgetting something? Something important? It wasn’t often Prowl had such a feeling, even less often that he could not resolve it. Why was it brought on by Starscream?

Prowl’s door wings drooped in confusion, the answer on the tip of his glossa yet completely out of reach. The itch pushed him to want to talk to Starscream yet such a want was preposterous. It wasn’t like he could anyway. The former decepticon SIC was bound and muted in a high-security cell, there would be no talking to him.

Sighing, Prowl stood. His shift had been over for quite a few hours regardless, so perhaps he should actually relax. ‘ _ Jazz would be so proud’ _ Prowl mused, rolling his optics at the thought. Door wings firmly back into their formal form, Prowl left. Yet the itch did not.

What in the world could Prowl be forgetting?


	3. Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A saboteur desperately tries to connect the dots without all of them there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to get in the mindset of whoever i'm writing from the perspective from. Can't do that then I can't write. Sorry for the delay!

To the uneducated of the world, they thought the Autobot Special Operations Division was obsolete. All things considered, they wouldn’t have necessarily been wrong. Several years after the war, the only things they did that the general populace was aware of made them out to be nothing more than a glorified security force.

They would be wrong however, hence why those in Spec Ops call them ‘uneducated’ although they’re more ‘unaware’. Despite what it looked like on the surface, the Special Operations Division did more than just regulate requests to access certain Databases and guard over prisoners. Oh did they do  _ so much more _ .

See, the Autobot Special Operations Division -although they prefer to just be called Ops- never lost their original purpose. Think of it more as… switching focus to more prudent aspects of society which require their peculiar nature. Make no sense? Perhaps that one of the several reasons no one had really noticed the change.

Other reasons would include that what they were doing wasn’t really all that noticeable, but they were no less important. Spec Ops may not have been clearing rubble or rebuilding infrastructure, they lacked the frames for such heavy lifting. They weren’t synthesizing materials with the Science Division, then again no one in their right processor was anywhere near the Science Division during the synthesizing process. They certainly weren’t helping run peace talks nor taking any place in them, not everyone could be like Jazz and even he lacked the temperament to deal with some mechs. So definitely nothing obvious.

However ‘obvious’ doesn’t translate to ‘unimportant’. In fact, what they were doing was rather very important. Spec Ops were dealing with the ‘Outback’. Never heard of it? Don’t worry, not many have. Nor will many ever hear of it, it simply isn’t talked about all that often.

The ‘Outback’ is the name for a particular section on the edges of cyberspace occupied by the Decepticon Guerrilla Forces, or DGF if you will. The DGF were small groups of former Decepticons ranging between five to forty mechs who decided they weren’t happy with how the war ended. Either they wanted complete control of cybertron, wanted all non Decepticons executed, or merely refused to recognize the war as over.

See, a war doesn’t always end when one side ‘wins’. There will always be people unhappy with the outcome who refuse to admit defeat or even just wish for genocide of a particular sect of people. Some of these people will be quiet in their distaste but others, like the DGF, will take it upon themselves to keep fighting. Who will riot even against insurmountable odds.

It was these people, these cybertronians, that Specs Ops turned their skills against. These DGF members were often sighted raiding far out Autobot outposts for everything not bolted to the ground, killing everyone in sight, and then going back for the bolts.Despite their desperation, small numbers, and often downtrodden exteriors, these mechs were undeniably dangerous. With the way the DGF groups were going, they simply couldn’t be allowed to live.

So that’s where the Autobot Special Operations Division came in. Missions were organized in secret, kept between Spec Ops and Prowl only. If Optimus Prime caught wind then the whole thing would be cut off immediately. Thankfully no one else had to be brought in. Prowl was the best of the best, in both his tactical skills and having the specific skills required to keep Optimus Prime out of the loop and therefore unaware.

DGF related mission weren’t always the quickest, nor were they very easy. Honestly, the groups were like cockroaches. Individuals weren’t all that hard to catch but snuffing out an infestation was downright impossible. Or just nearly so, Specs Ops wasn’t doing too bad of a job. In reality, they were just annoying.

Not to mention information on the groups was scarce and hard to come by. It’s not like these guerilla forces had a distinct base to find. Each group was separate with next to no contact with one another. Not that Specs Ops would let that stop them

Even when it felt like they hit a dead end, Specs Ops kept pushing. Decades after they began, there was still yet another DGF group to eliminate. Each one better at hiding than the last. Yet Specs Ops persevere. They couldn’t stop, not with Shockwave still on the loose. Although by definition Shockwave wasn’t technically a DGF member.

Jazz knew better than anyone the true nature of the Autobot Special Operations Division, even better than Prowl likely did. Jazz knew of every little inner working of Specs Ops. No minute detail escaping his grasp. He was still the head of Specs Ops after all.

Well, that wasn’t true, not really. Officially speaking, Jazz was the Third in Command of the Autobot Army. Or at least that’s what the paperwork said. Not that Jazz was a big fan of paperwork, ever.

Not many knew of his other, unofficial position though. The only other mech Jazz had told being Prowl. Then again, Prowl knows a lot about the Autobot army, more than he reasonably should. Regardless of him being Second in Command, there were just some things Prowl knew that he really shouldn’t have been able to find out. It got Jazz curious about how he knew, not that Jazz could figure  _ that _ out either.

Of course Jazz would be the head of Specs Ops anyway. He was the best saboteur the Autobots, and likely the whole of Cybertron, had ever seen. So why wouldn’t Jazz still call the shots? Still decide who would go on what mission? There’s little to no reason Jazz shouldn’t make these decisions.

Not to mention Jazz’s replacement, a smaller mech named Bond who specialized in unique applications of ‘trip-wire’, wasn’t exactly going to stop him. Despite being the current head of Special Operations, Bond really just acted more like a glorified secretary. Almost all of Bonds duties were ‘delegated’ to Jazz, except the paperwork and thank primus for that.

In the end it was this unique, precarious, and overall rather obscure position of his that allowed Jazz to know immediately when something...curious happened. Curious was definitely the word for it, or interesting or near impossible or really just how the frag had that even  _ happened _ . 

Most recently, the event that got Jazz’s attention in such a way happened to be Starscream for the first time...ever really. Starscream just wasn’t that interesting and was really rather predictable to be fair.

After the first few times of Starscream attempting to assassinate Megatron it stopped being interesting. It got repetitive, predictable, and quite frankly  _ boring _ . It’s not like Starscream did anything else that would qualify as ‘interesting’ either.

Nothing else that would count as interesting until this orn that is. The orn where Starscream did something that scrambled Jazz’s processors trying to figure out  _ how  _ he managed it. What was it that the seeker did? He disappeared.

Not literally of course. Physically speaking, Jazz knew exactly where Starscream was. The Decepticon SIC was locked in a high security containment cell in security block B, at least two block and twenty cells away from anyone. The only reason the Seeker wasn’t in solitary was because they didn’t have it. Why he deserved to be in solitary is because it’s Starscream. Not much more needs to be said.

Digitally, however, things were very different. Digitally speaking, Starscream didn’t exist. According the Decepticon database and the Iacon database, no mech even remotely resembling Starscream existed. Only the barest mention of the seeker was found in a few datapads from some scientist whose name had been glitched off the report.

Jazz’s Spec Ops instincts went off immediately. That couldn’t have been right. Though even looking a second time let up nothing, Jazz still had trouble believing Starscream was just… not there.

Starscream was hardly secretive, or at least he was extremely bad at keeping secrets. The seeker just had a way of constantly announcing his presence to literally everyone. A mech could be blind, deaf, and have half his sensors gouged out and Starscream would still be able to make sure that you knew exactly where he was. It was annoying as the pit but as an ops mech it was dead useful. Starscream just had a way of making everyone lose even when it seemed impossible.

It’s that same way of Starscream’s lack of subtlety that made Jazz want to scream now. If Jazz had thought Starscream was annoying before, primus he was frustrating now. Jazz knew he had been in the Decepticon database too! He’d seen Starscream’s name in the database after he… ‘hacked’ it. Yes, hacked, that’s what he did. He totally didn’t just stumble upon a still-open pc of Vehicon. No he hacked it, what are you talking about?

Whichever it was, it brought up several questions. Namely, why was a  _ drone _ allowed to access what looked to be the medical files of the second in command? That counted as sensitive information and no one was dumb enough to give anything like that to a drone. Also, if it was there then, why wasn’t the information visible now? Where did it go? Did it ever even exist in the first place? Had  _ Jazz _ been had?

Suddenly, the hack the had given nothing more than embarrassing stories of Starscream was bearing more seeds than fruit. Back when he first did it, everyone had a good laugh at the newly revealed mess ups of Starscream. Some bets were resolved, others were made on what he would do next. No one really questioned the information though.

Now Jazz certainly had questions. Questions that seemed to have no answer. Nothing about the situation made even a lick of sense. Starscream would’ve had to hack the Decepticon database before he had been tossed in his cell but after he had been captured in order for his information to disappear. But this was  _ Starscream _ , he couldn’t hack his way out of a paper bag.

Even Jazz had a hard time getting around the first few of Soundwave’s firewalls. It’s why a lot of his forays into Decepticon territory had been information-based. Going to the source was the only real way to get something, or remove it. So had Soundwave known? He must’ve known. Soundwave knowing would be the only way Starscream would stand chance.

Yet… Soundwave hated Starscream, most of the Decepticons did. Scrap that, basically everyone either wanted Starscream dead or hacked of all important information then sent to Shockwave to have his body used for science. There was no in-between. Soundwave just wouldn’t do that, for  _ anyone _ . The TIC prized information almost as much as Jazz did, and that’s saying something.

No matter what Jazz did to try to reason it to himself, he just couldn’t. The virtual existence of a mech like Starscream couldn’t be erased and yet… it was erased. Just gone, zilch, nada, nothing and it ground Jazz’s gears like nothing else.

Here Jazz was, the premiere saboteur of the Autobot army, a master of sabotage and information, who seemed to know everything there was to know about you before even meeting you, utterly stumped about the biggest loudmouth that Cybertron had ever seen.

That wasn’t just Jazz bragging either. He knew just about every little lie, embarrassing story, and shocking secret of every mech on base, including his fellow Spec Ops. Yet, when it came down to it he seemed to know nothing about Starscream.  _ Starscream _ of all mechs. That mech couldn’t keep a secret if you welded his mouth shut!

Everyone knew Starscream, those that didn’t quickly found out. The seeker was loud, brash, arrogant, cowardly, abrasive, and never seemed to know when to shut up. How such a mech became the Second in Command of an entire army was a mystery because not even Megatron seemed to remember his reasoning. The Seeker lacked nearly all forms of leadership or deception needed.

Jazz took a deep breath, calming himself. He shouldn’t get so worked up about this. It was rare he ever did, if completely unheard of by most. Look on the bright side -Jazz told himself- what  _ do _ you know about Starscream? Focus on that.

Well, Jazz always knew when Starscream was planning something. He knew the seeker had quickly risen through Megatron’s ranks the moment he had joined, though no one could say how. He was one of the few mechs, alive or dead, to know of the ‘Incident on Xern-2’. Although that might not be a good thing. He knew Starscream was the self-proclaimed fastest seeker to take to the air. He knew that Starscream was the last seeker alive, or at least the data said so. He knew Starscream lacked any form of subtlety. He knew… Starscream had managed to hide his virtual presence or lack thereof.

Just thinking about it made Jazz wonder what else he knew of Starscream was false information. Or about anyone else… but no. Jazz knew false information from true information better than anyone else. What he did know was true… the question was what he didn’t know. If that wasn’t somehow worse, Jazz didn’t know what to think.

From within his office, Jazz felt the corners of his mouth start to drag down into something reminiscent of a frown. Primus, he didn’t think he had gotten so worked up about this. Not many could say they’d ever seen Jazz frown, maybe one or two. It was just rare for the peppy and upbeat self-proclaimed morale officer to even look like he’s feeling a negative emotion. 

Quickly, he forced the his usual grin on his face. Jazz could be broody later in his habsuite, where there were no cameras and no Red Alert to overreact over Jazz’s mood. You’d think it was Jazz being overdramatic but Red Alert had once sounded the alarms over Jazz frowning, not fun even to explain to Prowl… or Prime. 

That’s when Jazz decided that he had spent far too long in his office. Even if he wasn’t even a third of the way through his shift and one-seventeenth of the way through Prowl’s regular shift times. Then again, the Paraxian worked far too much for three mechs let alone one. Yes, yes, far to long for Jazz.

Jazz stood, stretching his not-at-all sore struts and sauntering out of his office. Starscream was pushed to the back of his mind, where his subprocessors would puzzle over it while he tried to focus on not running into a wall. Although that puzzle was missing several pieces, and Jazz had a lot of questions. No, no, focus Jazz, focus. Even if he wants answers he’s going to have to be patient. Wait for the interrogation that was bound to happen. Jazz can be patient.

Interrogation, Jazz nearly laughed at the thought. That would be fun. Starscream finally unable to lash out as they drilled him for information. Though they’d have to remove the muzzle first. No other way for the seeker to speak. Jazz’s smile got a little easier. It was the little things that made him happy… and the muzzle.

Primus, Jazz actually started laughing as he remembered the sheer look of indignance on Starscream’s face when they shoved the thing on him. Jazz quickly looked around him. A sigh of relief left him when he found he wouldn’t have to explain to anyone why he burst out laughing like a lunatic. Maybe he could use the ‘fake comm-line’ excuse? Yeah, that usually worked.

Either way, Jazz mused as the continued his trek, Starscream had certainly earned the muzzle. It was a necessity for Starscream as things turned out. Funny as all pit and necessary. A rare combination. Turns out a ‘silver-tongued’ seeker who finds joy in people overreacting to insults constantly watching his greatest enemies wasn’t a good combination. Who knew?

They’d learned their lesson, that’s for sure. Somehow, in the brief period of time they thought it wasn’t necessary, Starscream had managed to make Bluestreak cry, threw Sideswipe and Sunstreaker into a blind rage, pushed a sweet mech from tactical designated Switch to blow up at anyone who looked at him slightly wrong, got Ironhide to knock down or blow up several walls just from watching him, and made just about every guard they tried to assign him revolt and say ‘no’ after not even a shift with him. One of the most reserved mechs on base even slammed the door in Prowl’s face before he could finish saying ‘Starscream’. The seeker was infuriating and he slagging knew it too.

Even with the muzzle, a guard shift with Starscream might as well be considered cruel and unusual punishment. Slag, there was even a petition for that! It didn’t get approved - _ someone  _ had to do the job- but the fact that it was there was telling enough. If Jazz didn’t know Starscream as well as he did, he might say that Starscream was doing it on purpose. Then again…

Jazz broke out of his musing to greet two mechs he remembered sending on the latest DGS mission. They had done quite a good job, in and out in only a few orns. Good time for those types of Ops missions. One of them seemed to have just finished a shift and was very frustrated, probably a Starscream guard duty shift. Looked like it at least.

Static was his designation if Jazz remembered correctly. A little green and yellow fellow Polyhexian who was excellent in getting into places he shouldn’t be and not being caught once there. He was also extremely patient, which was probably the reason he got guard duty. Thinking back to the constantly level headed Static who could wait out entire battalions of Decepticons and looking like the one in front of him, Jazz almost didn’t recognize the agent. Static looked so wound up that someone could breathe on him and he’d snap. Jazz could hear Static’s denta grinding and cables being pulled taunt, the mech’s small claws digging hard enough to draw energon from his own hands.

Shiver stood next to him, desperately trying to calm down Static. The dark gold mech had just gotten off a monitoring shift if Jazz’s memory served him. Unlike his conjux, who was known for his saint-like patience, Shiver was more well known as the mother hen of his team. When other Spec Ops wouldn’t go near the medbay after a shift, Shiver was usually the person to convince them to go in. Shiver was adept at being someone he wasn’t as well, his overall stature making him look the exact opposite people usually expected a Spec Ops to be. No one could usually tell if he was who he said he was, except Soundwave. Then again, Soundwave can literally get in your head. Thankfully, Soundwave wasn’t everywhere so Shiver remained having an impressive rap sheet for missions. His current ‘mission’ of calming Static down didn’t seem to be going very well though.

Letting out a low whistle, Jazz slowed to walk slightly behind the two. “Tha’ bad, huh?” A smile and a ‘wink’ that they couldn’t see, Shiver gave a strained smile in return. Static seemed to almost vibrate though. Probably recognizing Jazz’s grin for himself, the damn broke and Static let out a rant that Ratchet would be proud of if only it contained a bit more cursing.

Jazz didn’t so much listen as he did react. Playing his role of unofficial morale officer to a T, no one noticed how little he was actually paying attention. Then again, who could? Static was almost talking as fast as Bluestreak and if that wasn’t a feat, who knows what is. Shiver looked oddly bored. Then again, he’s probably heard the rant before, several times in fact, some maybe over their bond. Jazz most certainly did  _ not _ envy him.

“And if he’s not doing any -bzzt- that then he’s just sittin’ -bzzt- staring at me! -bzzt- muzzled but I can -bzzt- hear his still horrible screechy voice! He muzzled! -bzzt- I can still hear him Jazz! He’s in my head!” Static shivered, voice ending in almost a desperate whisper. Not even his vocalizer glitch, the reason for his name that somehow hadn’t been caught in the development stages, stopped him from his rant. Jazz had to admit though, the mech had dedication. Static’s rant is the most Jazz can remember him speaking at one time ever. 

Shiver muttered something into his conjux’s audials, rubbing Static’s shoulder’s soothingly. Jazz winced sympathetically, he did not envy Static, “Youch, certain’ly sounds rough” Jazz glanced towards shiver, “Ya’ takin’ ah ‘break’ then’?” A ‘wink’, a grin, and a look that Shiver could definitely feel and the golden mech’s entire went blue.

Static remained blissfully unaware of the teasing his conjux was suffering from, still muttering angrily. Although it sounded just like a low buzzing. Almost literally steaming, Shiver stammered a reply, “I’m taking his to the training room! To blow off some...steam” The two mechs met each other's optics other Static’s helm. Then Jazz understood, then Shiver understood that Jazz understood.

“Ah’ll leave i’ ta you two then! ‘Ave fun!” Jazz chirped, grin widening as Shiver took Static’s arm and hurried down the corridor. Pit damn it, Jazz had no idea that Static could get so wound up. It was as rare as Prowl smiling or Ratchet going through a procedure without cursing. Virtually impossible as any of those were. Then again, Starscream.

The door to the Rec Room opened with a silent ‘shhhhhk’ as Jazz approached. Noise enveloped the Polyhexian, immediately he could recognize quite a few of his friends. Many mechs, some who Jazz had never really talked to before, greeted him like an old friend. Jazz just kept his path to the energon dispenser, systems pinging him. 

Jazz took the greetings and noise in stride, sensitive audials ringing as they usually do in a crowd. Joking and dramatic gestures appeased many of the mechs around him. Jazz never talked to one mech for more than a few sentences as he made his way through the room. His cheery grin never left his face as he took his energon and scanned the room. No Prowl, he was probably in his office though.

There was a soft pang in Jazz’s chassis, he ignored it. No need to worry about it, he didn’t know what caused it anyway. As Jazz became one with the crowd, all thoughts of Prowl or Starscream or Prime fled him. He could talk to two of them later, and Starscream hopefully never. If things went well, there wouldn’t be any new rumors about the seeker, there were already far to many of those.

Even as Jazz tried to convince himself it was fine, his subproccessors whirred with activity. Desperately trying to connect the loose ends of a puzzle without all it’s pieces. What did he miss?


	4. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A decision is finally made, not one that everyone likes but a decision nonetheless.

Just as expected, a meeting was called between the three highest in commands of the Autobot army and to the two remaining heads of the Decepticon army. While, usually, the five of them in one room was a powder keg about to explode, this was actually rather important so they hoped that would not happen. Since even Megatron could agree something needed to be done and that something would require a little help.

While a mech or femme not appearing in the Iacon database wasn’t unheard of, a good 20% of the database  _ had  _ been corrupted throughout the years, there was at least record of them somewhere else. Whether that record was with the Autobots, Decepticons, or Neutrals didn’t matter.

Starscream didn’t seem to have that luxury. His only solid records were the brief few times he was captured by the Autobots and a few things from hacks that were really just embarressing stories you’d expect from someone incompetent like Starscream. So the Seeker was unique in that regard, something that was becoming increasingly common.

As per usual with meetings, Prowl was the first person to enter the meeting room, a full fifteen klicks ahead of anyone else. Although, he usually averages ten klicks early. This time, he had been puzzling about the issue for the past two orns and it was almost beginning to affect his workflow. That couldn’t be accepted so it was better to resolve things as soon as he could.

Prowl entered with swiftly, optics forward, taking careful and measured steps. Every move carrying a calculated grace only Prowl could have as he sat in the chair furthest away from the door on the right side of the table. As was his usual position for meetings. Nothing was off about that.

A datapad was laid directly in front of Prowl, the report from the Intelligence Division. Hands kept firmly in his lap to stop them from fidgeting. Perhaps, that was the first sign that something was unusual. In all other circumstances that Prowl carried paperwork into a meeting, he reread it while waiting in order to refresh his memory before the meeting started. Prowl didn’t touch the report now.

The datapad  _ was  _ virtually blank so such actions made sense. Even a mech with a processor malfunction could remember the few sentences on it. So, Prowl felt no reason to read it again, especially since he’s been practically obsessing over the report until about three joors prior to the meeting, as illogical as that seemed. It shouldn’t bother him as much as it did.

Not that Prowl looked very bothered, mind you. In fact, unless you knew him very well, which few did, nothing seemed off about him. He seemed more put together than many Autobots and Decepticons would ever be. Which was often a point of contention for some. Not that Prowl ever let that bother him.

It was only the little things that ever showed Prowl being bothered in any way. By little, they really were small things not many would notice. A slight twitching in his door wings was one of them, only a perceptive eye would notice any irregular movement. Prowl’s hands couldn’t seem to stay still either, clasping and unclasping as he tried to keep them in one place. The most noticeable was his optics. Usually a razor sharp gaze that when turned on you felt like being under a surgeon's knife was… foggy. Something about them distinctly unfocused.

However, the amount of mechs who were capable of sensing something being off was depressingly low. So, Prowl was left to stew in silence, trying to work past the constant feeling that he was forgetting  _ something _ . Something that was on the tip of his glossa but refusing to show itself. Few things could get Prowl so worked up. It seems this is one.

Soundwave entered next, the ever silent spy slinking quietly to his spot at the table. Second chair on the left, across the table and down one from Prowl. If Starscream had been… not Starscream, he would’ve sat opposite Soundwave. However, the traitor was still in the brig awaiting judgement and very much Starscream so his spot remained bare.

No words were spoken between the two executive officers. Prowl naturally being a mech of few words and Soundwave being a mech of even fewer than that. Both were introverts who weren’t very inclined to start a conversation themselves so the silence was expected. Both preferred the quiet anyway.

There were various reasons Soundwave was not in the brig with Starscream. The main reason being that Soundwave was the only mech capable of accessing every part of the Decepticon database. He was also not a traitor and did not participate in mech experimentation. Something both Starscream and Shockwave lacked respectively. Going along with the peace treaty was another thing the spy master had going for him. Shockwave hadn’t been very happy about that one

Prowl joted at a very brief, cursory brush against his top most thoughts, tearing him from his slight obsessing for the moment. Blue optics sharpened as he stared into Soundwave’s red visor. While the brush wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, experience being the only reason he had noticed it, Soundwave was very distinctly not Blaster. Not that Prowl would let either in his processor. No matter how many times Jazz tried to convince him that it would be fun having Blaster dig up some embarrassing memory file he would rather forget. As though Prowl was physically capable of forgetting anything.

Now, if it was difficult to tell that Prowl was bothered by something, it was nigh impossible to tell that Soundwave didn’t entirely know why he was there. He had glimpsed enough from Prowl to know it had something to do with Starscream. That alone already makes a feeling of annoyance bubble up within him. Even locked up had Starscream somehow managed to be… no not a threat but utterly infuriating.

As he waited, Soundwave went over his memory files to see if Starscream had done anything recently to warrant such a private meeting. Nothing immediately popped up. It was only a slight nudge from Lazerbeak about a stray thought Soundwave had actually resolved to ignore for the most part that seemed most likely explanation.

Soundwave couldn’t pinpoint exactly who he had picked it up from, but the thought process had been about someone who had managed to evade all their available resources that they had been using to recreate I.D. cards. The name hadn’t been clear in the momentary glimpse he got, and Stascream certainly wasn’t very good at evading anything but laserfire -even then that’s debatable- but it might just be one of the reasons why he was called. Soundwave recognized that something like that would need to be resolved in private to stop rumors -among other things- from spreading immediately.

Jazz sauntered in next, bringing with him the low buzz of music and a constant chatter as he slid dramatically into his seat across from Prowl. Every movement of his had a flow that no other mech could replicate. It was one of the reasons he was so good, literally no one could replicate his movements. “Heya Prowler! Howsit goin’ ma mech?” Jazz turned down the music as he spoke, cheery as ever. Soundwave made a point to turn away from his Autobot counterpart.

“It’s Prowl, not Prowler” Prowl responded, a few moments late. Not  _ much  _ later than he usually would but just enough to that Jazz began to feel that something was amiss with the stoic tactician. The saboteur narrowed his optics behind his visor.

There was no doubt in Jazz’s processor that Prowl knew exactly why the meeting was called. What was confusing Jazz was why it was bothering Prowl so much. Sure, Jazz himself was bothered by the sheer lack of information on Starscream but… Prowl wasn’t one to get worked up. Jazz thought he would shove it aside and ignore it until the meeting, not mull over it like Swerve would the latest gossip. That is if the meeting was even what was bothering Prowl

With a shrug and a grin, Jazz sat back in his chair, kicking his peds up on the meeting table. Humming a tune on his lips, Jazz seemed utterly relaxed. Somehow keeping a lively atmosphere even with Soundwave, his direct rival, on one side and Prowl, who just had an oppressive aura when he got like…  _ this _ , on the other.

“Still haven’t told meh how ya’ doin’” Jazz pointed out with a teasing grin, pulling his arms behind his helm and leaning back. The chair tilted in a worrying way in response. Jazz, of course, could tell at least moderately well how Prowl was feeling but it wouldn’t be the first time that he was wrong if that was the case. Best to check anyway.

“Don’t sit like that.” Prowl responded dully, tearing his eyes up from where they were practically burning holes into the offending datapad in front of him, instead turning to Jazz. As soon as Prowl turned his gaze to Jazz, the saboteur could tell that Prowl was definitely bothered by  _ something _ . He knew all too well how Prowl’s gaze usually affected people and it just didn’t feel the same.

Just as Jazz was about to start drilling Prowl on what was wrong, Soundwave straightened up in his chair. “Autobot Jazz: Desist” came the monotone voice Soundwave was so well known for. Jazz looked at Prowl a bit longer, then glanced at the spy master beside him and followed his gaze to the door.

The hulking form of Megatron entered first. His frame looked as though he was made of boulders stacked one against another. Even knowing they were tentative allies, Jazz felt his back straighten reflexively. The former warlord just had an ever present  _ aura  _ to him that could set anyone on edge. It seemed as though violence had been built into his very struts. Each movement bellied a deadly grace one would not expect from a frame his size.

Megatron seated himself almost carelessly in the chair closest to the door, purposefully inconveniencing the mech walking in behind him. A permanent look of distaste seemed to be stuck on his face as he glanced around the room as if to be sure everyone was there. It softened briefly as he lingered on Soundwave. Then hardened as Megatron’s gaze followed his rival’s form. If Jazz didn’t know any better he’d say Megatron despised all of them. He knew it was more of a mild annoyance though.

Optimus Prime was always a regal mech. If Megatron’s frame bellied a glorification of war, Optimus Prime was direct opposite. Smooth lines where Megatron had sharp angles, vibrant colors contrasting against dull grays. A more regal than deadly grace that his frame did nothing to hint at in every action. The contrast between the two powerful mechs was stark, the two having nothing but size in common with the other.

Prime seated himself carefully in his chair at the head of the table. Such care was not necessary but Prime had broken an embarrassing number of chairs that had been unprepared from the shear mass he got from the forge. Of course, the twins had sabotaged those chairs but Prime didn’t exactly know that. No one was very inclined to inform him of the prank either. It was the little things that made the stress of rebuilding just a little bit lighter.

“Why,” Megatron spoke, voice a natural growl, “has this meeting been called?” Deep crimson red optics swept the room. He seemed frustrated, like he’d been interrupted doing something important. The former warlord then crossed his arms and shifted in his chair that, like many others, was a bit too small for his frame. It would be annoying if Prime wasn’t in the same situation. Scrap that, it was annoying anyway.

With a look at his second, Optimus nodded. “Prowl.” was all he said. Prowl needed no further instructions from his leader, intuitively recognizing the order after years of working under Prime. Taking a deep invent, Prowl swept back his doorwings and rose in one fluid motion, the picture of someone who had all his slag together. A servo moved to flip over the datapad that had been laid in front of him.

Clearing his vocalizer, Prowl started the meeting. As he was the only mech in the room that was supposed to fully know what was going on he was the natural choice to lead it. “Recently, it has come under my purview that there has been an anomaly in the records the Information Division has been going through. Namely in the form of a mech who lacks any solid records of even being created in any of them” Prowl spoke swiftly.

“Due to the nature of this anomaly and who it pertains to, I decided that it would be prudent for the five of us to make a joint decision on the matter.” Ending promptly, Prowl projected information for everyone in the room to see. The light blue glow might as well have been a violent bright red with how quickly everymech was drawn to and shocked by it.

“Let it be known that, as Starscream is one of the last mechs to have a check for identification cards. His name itself was not found in the database, the closest that was found being a ‘Star’ with the rest of the name broken off due to conflicting code. It was assumed to be his name but there is no possible way to confirm such an assumption at this given time.” Prowl ex-vented at that.

Jazz straightened in his chair, Prowl’s doorwings had dropped a scant few centimeters. It wasn’t very visible but more than obvious to Jazz. Soundwave also seemed to realize something was up, though he didn’t give any outward reaction. So this meeting  _ had _ been what was bothering Prowl. Odd… it was an interesting subject, mainly due to Starscream being directly involved in something not inherently malicious, but why would it bother Prowl? The corners of his mouth got a little heavier, he didn’t let the smile fall.

“So wha’? We ‘ave to interrogate ‘im?” Jazz chimed in, faking curiosity even though he pretty much knew where this was going. Interrogating Starscream would be… actually Jazz wouldn’t know. He’d imagine it’d be downright infuriating just given the mech. Yet funnily enough, Jazz didn’t have any prior experience with Starscream and interrogations to go off. Specifically with the two together.

Starscream was a coward, a rather well known fact, but it made trying to interrogate the mech a chore. The seeker ran at the slightest hint of things going wrong. They could barely get Starscream in stasis cuffs, much less an interrogation room. He was imprisoned in the Ark a couple of times back on Earth but the seeker had a habit of not staying in his cell long enough for an interrogation. So it would certainly be new.

“That was my thought.” Prowl nodded, turning back to look at Prime, “Your thoughts sir?” The black and white Praxian sat down and turned his full attention to his leader. When you got to be as old as them, you didn’t often experience brand new things. Jazz was excited when he could, it’s why he liked earth so much. Prowl didn’t feel nearly the same way.

From there the conversation went in circles. Prime was the main one who needed convincing, the main guards around Starscream’s cell were Autobots and the Autobots would be the ones to cause a large ruckus at the events. Megatron was an extremely close second there. It didn’t take a genius to know that Starscream and Megatron -well Decepticons in general- didn’t mix. 

See, Megatron wanted to execute Starscream no questions asked. However, Optimus was much fairer than that, he thought Starscream deserved to at least explain himself and given a chance to confess his sins. Neither were willing to compromise. The other three in the room didn’t make it any easier.

Soundwave was firmly on Megatron’s side, he was always on his leader’s side. It’s not like advocating Starscream’s death meant any lost love. That would insinuate there was any love between the two, ever. Soundwave didn’t like Starscream because he was a traitor who tried to kill Megatron over the weather. Starscream didn’t like Soundwave because the spy was loyal to the point of being nearly blind. So that was two for Starscream’s death.

Jazz was on Optimus’s side. The saboteur thought that interrogating Starscream would be at least an interesting experience. Maybe even fun, Jazz didn’t have anything to go off of there so he was excited to try something vaguely new. Outwardly he sided with Optimus for the sake of ‘fairness’. Yeah, that. Totally the reason he was siding with Prime, of course.

Then there was Prowl. Prowl didn’t side with anyone. In fact, the mech seemed to be in deep thought. He didn’t speak, didn’t present evidence or even try to mediate between the two sides. It just wasn’t like Prowl. The stoic mech seemed to be made of stone if not for the very slightest of his doorwings as he thought.

No one quite knew how long the debate went on. Only Prowl ever really kept a track of meeting times. Except, of course, during meetings discussing economics, that rabble would make anyone stick as close to schedule as possible. The sooner that talk was over the better. Now, the meeting went on with nothing going anywhere, and Prowl just let it.

Until around joor -four...five?- when Prowl spoke up. “Starscream should be interrogated.” Then went back to silence. The other four mechs in the room startled, turning to look at the Praxian. It was as if they just realized Prowl was still there.

“Statement: Autobot Prowl, explain” Soundwave recovered first, followed quickly by Jazz. “A’hm all for it bu’ why ya goin’ for it?” Jazz and Soundwave spoke at about the same time and seemed to realize it by the look they gave each other rather discreetly. Not that anyone commented on it, Megatron seemed to find it vaguely amusing though.

The conference room seemed stifling. “While we are aware of Starscream’s most obvious wrongdoings, how much do we really know about him? How exactly are we supposed to try a mech that we don’t know anything about? We hardly have even the slightest bit of substantial evidence.” Prowl paused, trying to figure out how to word it.

“An’ ya gotta admit, you’re curious?” Jazz finished. Prowl simply nodded. Yes, that sounded about like what he had in mind. He would’ve said it himself but Prowl was rather preoccupied at the moment.

It took about 30 clicks for the meeting to close, half a joor more of their lives wasted arguing over starscream. It was eventually settled that the interrogation would go through. However, it would be watched over by both leaders, just in case. Jazz would be doing it, Soundwave would review it, and Prowl would cover their schedules.

One sept-orn, one week until their schedules would align close enough. One sept-orn to keep a secret. It shouldn’t be too hard. It was just between the five of them after all, not even Red Alert was watching over the meeting. How hard could it be?

They probably should’ve realized that anything involving Starscream never went as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to work at writing conversations =.=

**Author's Note:**

> To many, the city of Vos simply does not exist. It is an impossibility that many grounders never get to see. A city reserved solely for Seekers and their flying brethren could have never existed. Seekers were war builds after all, how could they run a city? Vos was simply a myth from ancient texts, dismissed with barely a second thought. However, a few grounders were once allowed to live in the flying cities, considered as honorary Vosians, and these few will never share their secrets however, not before the war broke out, not during it, and certainly not after. Until one event puts the entire population at risk and only a few grounders manage to escape the fallout, the rest of the citizens evacuated to Primus knows where.
> 
> Starscream was a mech that nobody seemed to take seriously. The SIC of the Decepticon army a laughingstock to all who knew of him. After all, it's hard to be afraid of a mech who messed up at every turn. Then after the war's end, with the seeker locked away awaiting judgment with the rest of the Decepticons, a discovery changes all of that. Suddenly the Autobots find themselves chasing a ghost, following the clues and legends of a city long forgotten to answer just one question.  
Who is Starscream, the Seeker Without A Trine?


End file.
